


The Curious Case of Jason Todd

by MadameNoire



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Batkids Deserve Better, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, De-Aged Jason Todd, Gen, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Hurt, I Made Myself Cry, I squeezed the Angst outta it, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason and Damian met at the League, Lazarus Pit Madness, On Her Own Way, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post RHATO 25, Resurrected Jason Todd, Sick Jason Todd, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - Freeform, but guess what, kind of, or tries to be, we're going down that road lads, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25071751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameNoire/pseuds/MadameNoire
Summary: 'What happened?', he wanted to ask as he took in the softness on Jason's face, on the absence of that tiny scar near his left eye that he'd felt the urge to touch and caress when he noticed for the first time, when he confronted Jason about the Major's incident. He also noted, though he wasn't sure how he felt about this, that there wasn't any remnants of the wounds he himself had inflicted on that face when they fought.He shattered the helmet while it was still on Jason's head. It had to have left scars."What's the matter? Forgot to pack the bat-cuffs?"Or, Bruce notices something's different in Jason, and is faced with the possibility of having to let go of his son, one more time.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd
Comments: 17
Kudos: 219





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the "Curious case of Benjamin Button" au no one asked for, but you're getting anyway, because there's always room for more angst on the Jason Todd feels train. If you're not familiar with the movie don't worry, the only thing I picked up from it was the de-aging character. Maybe.

"Are you sure about this, sir?"

 _'No'_ , he didn't say. Because when had he been sure of anything when it came to Jason? A thousand and one questions passed through his mind as the Iceberg Lounge came into view, its lights making the whole building shine like the sole star in the middle of the pitch black sky of Gotham's night.

The only thing he ever could be sure of, is that Jason, as unstable as he was, wasn't to be understimated. He'd built a criminal empire overnight before he was even legally able to drink, after all.

That's why he didn't even bother to make his entrance subtle, to hide the Batplane before jumping off it and into the Iceberg's rooftop. He was sure Jason knew he was coming. Maybe the young man was even waiting for him, or he wouldn't have bothered to reveal his real identity to the public.

Batman descended through the hidden stairs, taking in on the lack of cameras around the highest floor. Jason wasn't careless, so there must be a reason for that. Illicit activity was the most obvious answer.

Finally, he reached the door behind which Jason was supposed to be. He made sure his steps were loud and firm, as if announcing what really didn't need to be announced. 

He made a little pause once he was in front of the damn door, and didn't have to wait for it to be opened. His fist was the first thing that entered the room, slaming itself carelessly against the face of the person who opened it, who turned out to be no other than Suzie Sue, member of a renowned criminal family, and it seemed, Jason's brand new bodyguard, which only reafirmed his suspicions about his so- Jason's true intentions.

As the big woman fell, Batman turned to face Jason, who was just a couple feet away, standing by the window and drinking champagne, like he wasn't in front of his path- of a vigilante who just happened to know he was still not old enough to drink alcohol. He even offered him a drink, because he was Jason, of course.

Batman walked towards him, slowly, as if cornering a prey, and proceeded to attack Jason's many weak points, in hopes to make him give away his own plan. He mocked his mental stability, his ability to follow orders, to stay in line, if not for himself, for the sake of the family. Even the mention of Roy's death didn't seem to be enough to get to Jason, which was as curious as it was unnerving.

But Batman kept walking, because he had a job to do, and it didn't matter if the person he had to bring to justice was staring at him with eyes so big and so bright that for a moment Bruce thought he was looking at the _fifteen year old that he once caught in the sneacking into the library because he just couldn't wait to read the last chapter of Lord of the Flies and-_

Batman stood there, looming over Jason, eyes fixed on the younger man's mouth moving, lips twisted on a disdainful expression, eyes now sharp and looking up at him with all the defiance and wittiness he did when he was caught stealing the Batmobile's tires. 

There was something there, that kept reminding Batman of before. He just couldn't place what it was, if it was something on Jason's voice, or his posturing, or if it was just his own mind playing tricks after seeing him again after finding out what really happened with Penguin. That, too, was a conversation they needed to have, later.

Then, Jason did something that caught him off guard. He lifted his hands, fingers curled into loosened fists, and put them together in front of him on the position Batman had intended to put him that night. The night months ago, when his own fists had shattered the red helmet revealing the face of a nineteen, almost twenty year old who looked so, so old with the weight of the world always on his shoulders. Who didn't even look past eighteen tonight.

 _'What happened?'_ , he wanted to ask as he took in the softness on Jason's face, on the absence of that tiny scar near his left eye that he'd felt the urge to touch and caress when he noticed for the first time, when he confronted Jason about the Major's incident. He also noted, though he wasn't sure how he felt about this, that there wasn't any remnants of the wounds he himself had inflicted on that face when they fought.

He shattered the helmet while it was still on Jason's head. It had to have left scars.

"What's the matter? Forgot to pack the bat-cuffs?"

His hands moved as if with a mind of their own, trapping Jason's wrists on an iron hold, pulling the boy closer to him, and looked straight into his eyes, wide opened with momentary shock.

"What happened?" he finally asked, his teeth gritting as Jason's expression closed up once again. " _Jason_." he growled in warning, his hold tightening up.

"Yes, _dad?_ " Jason all but purred, his eyes narrowing despite the pleased smile gracing his lips.

Batman grunted, his mind already going through all the possible answers, all the possible things that could have happened to Jason to make him look like the eighteen -seventeen, at the very least- year old that tried to make him kill the Joker instead of the nineteen year old that accepted the punishment for "killing" the Penguin, when he felt a known pressure against his temple. He didn't need to turn around to know a gun was being pressed against his head.

"Release him. Now."

Batman did. He let go of Jason's wrists, but kept the boy behind him as he turned around, lifting his fist to punch the gun away. His oponent was good, though, and he barely got a light touch against their arm as they retreated, gun still held high, pointing straight at Batman's head.

It was a mask, was the first thing Batman noticed. Their costum very similar to his own, but without the bat theme, going closer to Midnighter's. They were tall, maybe even taller than himself, broad shouldered and with a dangerous aura around them. Very similar to what the Red Hood had appeared to be when he first came to Gotham.

"You alright, Boss?"

"My suit's a little wrinkled now, Wing, but that's all." Jason sauntered over them, and stood right behind them, letting his bodyguard's body to serve as a barrier between him and Batman. He looked at Batman over "Wing"'s shoulder, eyes as cold as the gun his friend was holding, as he stared straight into Batman's white lenses. "No shattered helmets this time."

Batman felt his eyes twitch at the comment, at the tone, at Jason's hands visibly pressed against the stranger man's back.

"Batman was just telling me about this idea he has of taking me with Comish Gordon and have an extensive chat with him. Maybe even invite Vicki Vale over, see if she could use any of the info I'm going to give to the GCPD about certain aspects of my past."

With his vission going red, Batman took a step forward, but the sound of the gun being triggered had him frozen on his spot. He blinked to see Jason's hands holding "Wing's" arm up, the gun pointing at the ceiling, smoke still pouring out of it.

Through Jason's face flashed an expression of pure horror. He looked so frightened, so horrified, and so, so young, that Batman's breath got caught on his throat at the sight.

Only after Jason's face went back to disdain, Batman walked to the window, without turning his back on the two other men, and jumped off, head full of doubts and chest heavy with worry.

* * *

  
Six months, two weeks and four days later, Bruce got a call from the least expected of people.

"Hello, Beloved."

"Talia."

To say that Bruce despised the woman was an understatement. Since finding out that not only she conceived and raised his child behind his back, and trained him since birth to become an assassin, but that also she was the one he had to thank for keeping his other son from him, for poisoning his heart and giving him the means to try and get a pointless revenge.

Bruce didn't know you could hate someone so much, after having loving them so much, until he heard Talia's voice again.

"What do you want?"

"It is not about what I want, Beloved, but about what our son need."

"Damian doesn't need anything that comes from you."

There was a soft laugh on her side. Bruce could practically see the smug ghost of a smile on her beautiful face.

"I trust that you are more than cappable of fulfilling all of our youngest's needs, Beloved. No, I'm talking about our eldest son. Jason."

Bruce felt both hot rage and cold ice filling his chest. He realized, shame taking a hold of his face, that he'd had a different idea of what Jason and Talia's relationship was. Never had the thought crossed his mind that Jason, the kid who left a life as the son of a billionaire to go look for the woman who had abandoned him in Crime Alley as a baby, hoping to find a mother, would ever come to look to the woman who had trained him and manipulated him and kept him from his family and think of her as a mother.

It was now very obvious how blindsided he was when it came to Jason.

"Were is he, Talia?"

Too late he realized what he asked. Jason had disappeared from the face of earth weeks after their encounter at the Lounge, after painting a target on Penguin's back, forcing him to fly the country. No one knew where he went, just that he wasn't around. He may have become a little desperate on his efforts, to ask Talia al Ghul.

"He's alive," she said, her voice going soft all of a sudden, "but he's not... He's not in a good place, Beloved."

Hundreds of scenarios crossed Bruce's mind. Jason being held hostage by one of the many enemies of the Red Hood. Being tortured by an enemy of the League or Batman. Having been caught in a mission, on earth or space with Starfire...

"Where."

"I can't tell you."

"Talia."

It was Batman's voice now.

"He made me promise not to tell anyone of his location."

"Then why did you call me?"

"Because I refuse to stand by and watch him wither away alone, when his family ought to be by his side while it happens."

In that moment, Alfred entered Bruce's office, carrying a tray with sandwitches and a teah pot. Outside, Titus was barking, surely, at the squirrels that would sneak around and steal at the plate Damian kept outside for him. 

Wither? Jason was withering? What did that mean? Why did Talia sound so distressed? 

As if reading his mind through the phone, Talia spoke once more.

"I will give you his location, Beloved, only because I know he, and you, would deeply regret it if you don't get to him in time- Only know that if you ever dare to lay a hand of him, I will resurrect my father myself and set him against you and your family -save Damian, of course."

With that, she finished the call, and two seconds later, Bruce's cellphone vibrated on his pocked, sign that he just received a message. It was Talia's. It was an adress. Jason's adress.

Bruce stared at the screen, the landline still on his other hand. Talia's last words still ringing against his ears. Talia had brought a lot of harm upon him and his family, but most of it had been due to her negligence. In all the years he'd known her, despite all the bad blood between them, Talia had never, never threatened his children. Not even when she was little more than her father's pawn.

He shut his eyes, suddenly unable to look at his own hands, the hands that had beaten his son, that had shatered a military reinforced helmet on his son's head. The hands that had once held Jason's face as the most delicate of things, as if the slightest pressure would shatter that blinding grin, would taint those beautiful eyes, or soil that freckled skin.

"Master Bruce?"

Bruce opened his eyes, and his gaze met Alfred's concerned one. Then, Talia's other words came back to him. Wither.

"I'm going to Tijuana."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of your comments! They really warm a socially awkward girl's heart!

He couldn't say he was surprised, once he arrived to a small, wooden cabin in the middle of the desert. it was surrounded by some scattered trees, and some car pieces laying around the yard. There wasn't any lights inside the cabin, and the only thing iluminating the outside was the dim light of his car.

"Nice place," Nightwing said beside him, pointedly eyeing a pile of trash pulled together on a way that ressembled Batman's cowl, holding an announce that said, ink looking an awful lot like blood, _'Cuidado con el ogro'_. "Not quiet as fancy as his last one, though. The Lounge always looked a bit too bright for his tastes anyway."

Batman grunted.

There was a moment of odd silent around them. No branches being moved by the wind, no night birds singing in hopes to find a mate, no insects making desperate noises to scare predators away. Just dreadful silence.

Batman opened his mouth, the first syllables of a yelled order for Nightwing to get away already coming out of his lips when he found himself sorrounded by several blades, all shining golden as they pointed preciselly at vulnerable points on his armor.

Nightwing cursed under his breath, trying to move his face as far as he could away from the blade pinching his nose, but trying to avoid impalling himself into the one pressing against the back of his neck.

It only took Batman a moment for his lenses to adjust to the new light and realize that the blades were floating, no hands holding the handles. What had Jason gotten himself into?

"Not bright enough, then?"

Batman's attention snapped back ahead of them, right to where Nightwing's gaze was fixed, and the air felt trapped on his throat as he noticed a blade different from the rest, longer and thinner, blood tainting it instead of the shine emanating from the others. There was also a hand holding it, as bloody as the blade.

"Jason?"

The figure was almost blend with the shadows of the night, hidden behind the gleam of the blades, but even they could not overshine the pair of green glowing embers looking with slitted pupils directly at him, burning a name deep within his brain, sending a message of danger that sounded a little too much like six heads on a duffle bag did, once upon a time.

But it couldn't be, and the disbelief on Nightwing's yelp only comfirmed it. The shape was small, not by much, but certainly smaller than Jason's bulky frame -Bruce would never acknowledge the small trace of pride he felt every time he remembered little Jason's resolution to be, one day, as tall and big as Bruce, despite the doctor's word that he'd never reach the average height due to years of malnourishment he was forced to endure-.

Besides, Jason wasn't a meta.

Right?

"Batman."

It came as a hiss, like an angry cat that just found a rival intruding on his territory and was ready to rip his enemy's throat apart. Very much like Jason was when he came back the first time.

"Little Wing?"

There was a small pause on their attacker. A flicker on those eyes that seemed a little too sad for the slightest moment, but then seemed to lighten up with even more strength than before. The blades around them were slightly thrusted forward, now fully pressed against them. 

"Jason."

It wasn't Batman's voice that spoke, cold as ice and hard as the kevlar covering his chest. It's Bruce's, full of worry and love and regret, but mostly worry for Jason, accumulated not only in the last couple of months, but since-

"Jay?" he tried again, and this time, all the blades around them disappeared, even the one Jason was holding, and there was only him, now. Only Jason, standing in front of them, trembling, as he stared with his neon eyes at Bruce, and even with the darkness Bruce was able to see his eyebrows twisted on a frown, his lips and nose on a grimace. There was another thing, another change that Bruce's mind refused to acknowledge, but also knew that it's there. Based on Nightwing's shocked gasp, he was not the only one who noticed.

"B-Bruce?"

There was something in that voice, a voice Bruce knew he'd recognize everywhere, but that now had a new edge to it that wasn't before. It was trembling, and not as deep as it was months ago. It was different, yet, Bruce knew it was right, though it brought an itch to his hands to open and take and never let go.

"Jaylad?"

In the blink of an eye, there where a pair of arms circling Batman's neck, and a wet face pressed against the side of the cowl. There was a heartbreaking sob, and that's all it took for Bruce's hands to fly around a waist that felt too familiar too him, too different from the one he'd tentativelly hugged once, after Jason's return. It was smaller.

Bruce's knees trembled as he felt the weight of his son leanning against him, as he felt his fingers digging into his came, and the tears that slipped along the waterproof material of his cowl, but he knew were there nonetheless. There were also tears aching to form behind his lenses, but he set his yaw and concentrated into calming the speed of his heartbeat, and the uneasiness of his breath. He couldn't let his guard down. Not with Jason.

So he let himself slip, gave Batman the wheel and slid into the passenger's sit.

Batman's hands gripped the person's shoulders, and pusched until he was being held on arm's length. He received a stunned look from those eyes that weren't shining anymore, and which pupils were now human looking. There was fear on them, and confussion, and sadness, but Batman didn't buy it.

Batman's grip losened as he took in the face around those eyes. It was young, younger than Jason was months ago, at the Iceberg Lounge. Younger than he looked like a year ago, when he comfronted both Batman and Joker. Batman had never seen this face this young, though he did remember it being so much younger, open and carefree. He was older than he was when he left for Ethiopia.

"D-dad?"

He also remembered that. The first time Jason called him "dad", the night Bruce asked him if he wanted to change "Todd" for "Wayne" as the issue came out through the adoption paperwork. He had made Jason cry with that one, although his boy had always been one pride bean, so he just hid his face against Bruce's neck, and when he could speak once again, that was the first thing to come out of his lips. A soft, watery, 'thanks, Dad.'

So Batman lost once again control of the body, giving in to the full force of Bruce Wayne's emotions. 

Bruce hugged the smaller body in his arms, pressing him against his chest as hard as he possibly could without hurting him with the armor on. There was a small "huff", but Jason's hands soon came to rest at Bruce's sides, holding onto him like a lifeline.

"What- what's the meaning of this?" Dick asked, completely forgetting that they were there under their masked identities. Bruce's eldest loomed around them, unsure of how to react. 

Jason's big frame that once rivalized with Batman's, broad chest and broader back, taller than all his brothers and almost looking eye to eye with Bruce, was gone. Now he barely came to Dick's eyeline. His massive bulke was nowhere to be seen, and on its place stood a lean body, very much like Tim's, if slightly more filled. 

Dozens of possible answers came to Batman's mind at Dick's question. None of them logical at all. Time travell? Dimention travell? There was a system in the Cave, and another one on the Watch Tower, that would have warned them in any of those cases. A clone? Unlikely. With what purpose?

"We're leaving," Batman said. Under his fingers, Jason's body became tense, and his nails started to dig into Batman's armor.

"No- No go back," Jason started to mutter, his voice strangled and anxious, his entire body shaking as he pressed himself even closer to Bruce's frame. "No back... With the Cl-Clown, no... the B-Bat kill m-me..."

Bruce stood there for a moment, stunned at Jason's words. He chanced a look at Nightwing, who had the look on his face he always had whenever Batman did something shameful -like beating your own son ruthlessly on a rooftop over a confussion-.

"No," he found himself saying, his right hand sliding the cowl off his face. "We're going home."

Jason's body went slack against him, like a pup just having its strings being cut. His breath became even, and his hands relaxed their hold, but his fingers kept some of the tension, still clinging to Batman's front armor. 

"He- Jay, are you ok?" Dick asked, using the tone Bruce himself had taught him to use with victims. Jason was a victim. The thought made something inside Bruce shiver.

There was no response from Jason, and were it not for the fingers still holding a somewhat strong grip on him, Bruce would've thought Jason was unconscious, maybe even asleep.

"His eyes are open," Nigtwing commented as he circled around Batman, his eyes scanning his brother's frame, "but they're not- He's not blinking, or looking at anything, just- It looks like he's fallen asleep with his eyes open."

Bruce let out a low grunt. He tried to separate Jason once again, to get a look himself.

It was, unnerving, what he found. Jason's expression was that of a sleepwalker, with his lids halfway down, just preventing the scarce light from reflecting on them. His lips were slightly parted, and his features softened. He was standing, though, holding his own weight on his legs. _'Catatonic.'_

Bruce didn't waste any more time.

* * *

  
The fly back to Gotham was short, and Bruce refused to look at Jason, eyes stubbornly fixed on the control panel, but with his trained ears focused on the noise of Jason's vitals. Dick remained by Jason's side, though he didn't make any comment, his undivided attention set on looking for any physical wound.

At the cave, Alfred was waiting for them, the med bay ready with all the machines and meds Batman possessed. Still, to Bruce, they seemed too little, not enough for what his son seemed to need.

He carried Jason down, he faced Alfred's stunned, then fearful eyes. He put Jason on the bed an held his hand as Alfred ran some general tests. Some more specific tests, drew blood and x-rays. Then, Alfred suggested Bruce asked to some of his friends from the League, "Maybe Mister Martian Manhunter, or Miss Zatanna, as Master Jason's problem seemed to be more of their work area and not something human medicine can deal with."

There weren't answers on the results, other than , some bruising on his knuckles, which Alfred took care of within minutes, taking the the time to look into his old medical kit and taking some rainbow band-aids with the letter "R" drawn on black on top of each one. Alfred picked one of each color and wrapped them around Jason's fingers on a specific order. 

Bruce's heart sank as he remembered the time around the second anniversary of him becoming Bruce's son, Jason started to replace the generic band-aid bag on his utility belt with colored ones. When the victim was a child, he even took the whole bag out and asked the kid to pick the color they liked. Soon, he started drawing small "R" on them as well, calling them "Robin-aids". 

The last time Bruce saw one on a Gothamite was when he opened his own belt, not two months after Ethiopia, and handed one of them to a working girl without even looking at it. She'd smiled softly, and punched Batman, accusation writen all over her face, but there was also bitter understanding on her eyes. Not all of Gotham's kids got to grow up, after all.

The last Robin-aid made by Jason's hand was still there, in the cave, inside a small box hidden on the base of his Robin case.

Once Alfred was done, he asked Bruce to take Jason to his old room, already prepared for his arrival. Bruce thanked him, ignoring the water accumulating on his butler's eyes, and picked up his son's sleeping form.

As Bruce carried Jason upstairs, he realized, startled, with a painful pang piercing through his heart, that it was years since the last time he did this, something he, once upon a time, used to do almost every night. Taking an asleep Jay from the cave to his room.

* * *

Jason woke up nearly at noon, screaming and trying to jump off the window. 

Damian was the one to find him, one leg already hanging outside.

Damian didn't know Jason was staying, and jumped into conclusions too quickly.

When Bruce finally found them, Damian was attacking Jason with his sword, while Jason kept dodging every swing, throwing anything he could get a hold of, aiming at Damian's face.

He quickly stepped in, grabbing Damian's hand and tried to force him to release the weapon, while using his body to block the lamp his other son had just thrown.

"That's enough!" he yelled, and as he felt the ghosts of fingers clawing at his back, Dick came running into the room, followed by a worried Alfred.

"Hey, Little Wing, calm down." Dick begged as he pried Jason off Bruce's back. "E-easy there! No! We don't bite other people's ears, Jay!"

Jason let out a loud growl, very similar to a wild animal being tied up by hunters, and Bruce could feel a couple of kicks against his lower back and side before Dick was able to take him away.

"He was trying to break in, Father!" Damian yelled as he squirmed under Bruce's hold, then, as Dick started to wrestle Jason on the bed, his tone became even more derogatory, "You should let me handle him! I'll take him down and ensure that the mere thought of ever coming back to bother us never croses his twisted mind!"

"Damian, stop!" Bruce replied, both amazed and frustrated as his son's agility, as Damian kept struggling against his hold.

"Why would this brainless brute be here, anyway, of not to cause even more trouble than he's already-"

"ENOUGH!"

The time seemed to stop for everyone in the room, as all of them stopped mid-motion and snapped their heads towards the door, where a very composed-looking Alfred stood, fixing them all with a disappointed glare and an arched eyebrow. His serene facade faltered, though, once his eyes stopped on Jason, who was pinned down on the bed by Dick.

"You have a guest, Master Bruce."

Bruce grimaced and opened his mouth to ask Alfred to tell "the guest" that this wasn't the best moment, that he was attending a very much important family matter. He was interrupted, though, as Jason's breathing became shallow, his chest rising and falling with alarming speed, his eyes wide open and staring past Dick with despair.

"Jay?"

Jason blinked, twice, before closing his eyes tightly. His hands curled into tight fists, and before Bruce's horrified eyes, the went down with brutal force against Jason's ears. The blast of the blows felt like punches on Bruce's gut. Dick was quick to stop him, or at least to try to. Despite Jason's smaller frame, he seemed to retain the strength of his lost muscles.

"Jay- No! Jason, stop!"

In the blink of an eye, Bruce was shoving Dick aside, taking trapping Jason on a bear hug, his arms traping Jason's against his own body, using all the strength it took to stop his son from further harming himself. Jason groaned against his ear as he struggled, tried to kick him and even bite him. When the strong, erratic movements didn't seem to stop, Bruce did the only thing that came to mind.

 _"Would you now my name..."_ he started, tense at first, but feeling his shoulders relax a little as he caught Alfred ordering Dick and Damian out of the room. Then, he let his hand rub Jason's nape, and his tone became a little softer without intention. _"If I saw you in heaven?"_

The kicks started to lose strength as Bruce carried on with the song, as Bruce's voice became softer and weaker, and filled with water and grief. It occurred to him that that speciffic song might not have been the best choice, especially when it not only brought him memories of a better time, when his son was still small and happy and loved him like a father. It also made him think of the time after, when he would lock himself on his room, or his study, with countless bottles of this expensive liqueur or the other, to try and forget and end up remembering every single detail, from the cute curls to the smallest freckles, and the song would start echoing inside his head like a background to his sorrows.

Still, Bruce kept singing, because as much as it brought memories for him, he knew it did the same for Jason. He hoped, that Jason would remember that night Batman skipped patrol so Bruce could spend the night cuddling and watching movies with his sick son. Or the other nights, after finishing a quiet patrol, and they'd take a break on their way back to the manor, sit on the batmobile's trunk and trace constellations with their fingers. Or the terrible ones, when Jason would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming and sweating and begging this villian or the other, sometimes even Willis Todd, to stop hurting him, and Bruce would come in and hold him and sing,

Eventually, Jason's movements started to cease, and Bruce could feel his heartbeat slowing down from where their chests were pressed against each other's. He could feel Jason's breathe against his neck, how it started to match Bruce's, as he tried to sing along, only for muffled wheeze to come out.

The song finished with Bruce doing his best not to sob, and then, as he wondered if Jason had fallen asleep, a known, and absolutely unwelcome voice interrupted the moment with a soft whisper.

"Beautiful, Beloved."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce's song is 'If I saw you in heaven', by Eric Clapton. I just think it's the perfect song to describe Bruce's feelings after Jason died, and have since ages ago wanted to include it on one of my fics, so here it is.
> 
> *Cuidado con el ogro: beware, ogre (yes, it's a reference, caps would be proud)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments of all kind are always welcomed! And thanks for reading!
> 
> Come say hi on [My Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/darcyskat)


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